“You said I was killing you. I got carried away and straddled you with my full weight.” She couldn’t be more mortified.
“Nel,” he said softly. “It’s just an expression. I was referring to this.” He pointed at the tent in the towel around his groin. “I want you so badly, my cock is hard to the point of pain.”
“Oh.” Embarrassment replaced the heated flush in her skin. “My mistake.”
“Do you think what we’re doing is a mistake?”
“No.”
“Good.” He rolled to his feet and held out his hand to help her stand. “Let’s go to the bedroom and get completely naked.”
“Can we stay here, next to the firelight?” With the lights out, the bedroom would be shrouded in utter darkness. Sex would be the last thing on her mind.
Tristan sank to the floor on his knees. “Absolutely.” He gazed at her face as he hooked his thumbs in her waistband and inched down her pants and panties. She gripped his shoulders, stepping free of the clothes.
Her skin warmed as Tristan’s gaze leisurely traveled every inch of her body.
“Beautiful, absolutely beautiful.” He gifted her with a smile that heated something deep inside her.
She knelt in front of him. His hands gently roamed her curves as they kissed. He eased her to the floor, trailed kisses down her throat and along the valley between her breasts. His tongue teased her belly button.
When he kept going lower, she tensed. Even though they were about to have intercourse, his mouth on her sex was more intimate than she was willing to go with a one-night stand.
Tristan glanced at her curiously and she shook her head. He offered a warm smile before placing tiny kisses along her inner thighs. His hand took the place of his mouth on her mound. His long, strong finger stroked between her folds, teasing her opening, tormenting her nub.
She quivered and writhed beneath his touch. Tristan licked and nipped her skin as he stalked up her body. When his tongue lapped the lower part of her breast up to her hardened nipple, she groaned. Arching her back, she rubbed against his cock, which was hard, thick and leaking at the slit.
“Condom,” she said raggedly.
Tristan pulled away only long enough to grab one of three silver packets off the end table. He must’ve found them in the bathroom cabinet.
He ripped open the foil wrapper with his teeth and sheathed himself in latex. “You have no idea what it’s doing to me to watch you watching me.”
Repositioning, Tristan dipped his head to her chest and took her breast into his hot, wet mouth, twirling his tongue over her taut peak.
Nel lightly scraped her nails over his broad, muscular shoulders. Tristan hissed with pleasure. He released her breast to gaze at her. She leaned into him to kiss the hollow of his throat and then chased his Adam’s apple with her tongue when he swallowed hard.
Tristan dotted light kisses across her forehead. He nuzzled hair, nibbled her ear, nosed along the curve of her neck. “I love the smell of your skin.”
At the junction of her neck and shoulder, he playfully sucked her skin between his teeth and lightly nibbled.
Boom!
The unexpected thunderclap shook the cabin.
Nel jerked, slamming Tristan squarely in the face. He sat on his haunches, his hand covering his nose.
“I’m so sorry.” She sat up. “Let me see.”
He allowed her to pull his hand away. She gingerly traced the outline of his straight, slightly flared nose.
“It’s a little red, but not bleeding. I think it is okay.” She saw amusement and something indescribable flicker in his eyes.
“Here’s a better test.” They lay down, his body settling comfortably over hers.
He tipped her chin, exposing her throat. Instead of the kisses she expected, he breathed softly across her skin. “Yep, you still smell delicious.”
Nel laughed. “Planning on eating me?”
Tristan’s breath faltered. “I would have, but that wasn’t on the menu tonight.”
Nel stared at him, her body in a flux of desire and embarrassment.
“It’s okay.” He lightly traced his knuckles along her jaw, then gave her the gentlest, sweetest kiss she could’ve imagined.
Her lips parted and his tongue slipped into her mouth. Slowly, he deepened the kiss until she no longer knew where her breath ended and his began. By the time he broke the kiss, she was ready.
His lips peppered hot kisses down her throat and between her breasts. As his mouth slid down the plane of her stomach, his thumbs strummed her nipples.
Tristan groaned and slipped his hand between their bodies. He nestled the plump tip of his cock against her opening, which was already clenching in anticipation.
With one smooth, masterful thrust, Tristan buried himself deep inside her body. He growled when she locked her legs around his hips and tightened around his shaft. They rocked in a deep and steady rhythm.
“God, Nel.” He watched her beneath hooded lids. “You feel so damn good.”
He gave her a hard, possessive kiss, thrusting against her harder, faster.
Tension coiled low in her belly, building into a gnawing hunger that had never been satisfied during intercourse.
She bit her lower lip to keep from crying out prematurely. She’d been on the cusp of orgasm before, only to lose it when her partner rushed to finish.
Blocking out all thoughts, she focused on the feel of Tristan’s bare skin against her, the shared heat between bodies in synchronized motion. How he filled her, utterly and completely, stretching her inner walls to the indistinguishable point between pleasure and pain.
Yes! Yes! God, yes!
“Nel,” whispered like a prayer, drove her right over the edge.
She screamed in ecstasy, as wave after wave of indescribable pleasure bombarded her being. The entire world seemed to come undone. No longer cognizant of the floor, or pillows or even the cabin, all she could sense was Tristan, whose strong steady presence tethered her, otherwise she would’ve drifted into nothingness.
Breathing hard, Tristan stilled and pressed his head against her shoulder.
Body humming, Nel slid her fingers through his hair and kneaded his scalp. The tenderness of the moment and the sheer intimacy was not what she anticipated, but was greatly appreciated.
His breathing eased and he kissed her temple so sweetly, unbidden emotion rose in her throat.
His warm, comforting gaze searched her face. “You okay?”
“Mmm,” was all she could voice.
He eased out of her. “Damn. The condom broke.”
“What?” Panicked, Nel sat up and pulled on her shirt.
“It’s not a big deal,” he said calmly.
Maybe not, if they’d been a couple and had future plans.
But a broken condom was certainly a very big deal for two people who were practically strangers.
Heart pounding as fast as her mind was racing, Nel grabbed her clothes and ran to the bathroom illuminated by the emergency light in the ceiling. She locked the door, leaning against it to catch her breath.
“Nothing to worry about,” she told herself. “No STDs, no accidental pregnancies.”
Whoever said deep breathing calmed the nerves obviously had never been in this situation.
She turned on the faucet and snatched a washcloth from the linen cabinet. After cleaning up, Nel splashed cold water on her face and neck. The fluffy hand towel she dabbed over her moistened skin smelled earthy and masculine. Tristan must’ve used it when he hung up his wet clothes in the shower.
She held the hand towel to her face and inhaled his scent. A strange calm settled over her, chasing away the panic her imagination had incited. Feeling much more herself, Nel laid the hand towel on the sink counter and looked in the mirror. Despite th
e scare, Nel’s face in the reflection appeared radiant. She had a faint rash just beneath her jaw and down the column of her neck, likely a whisker burn where Tristan had nuzzled her.
“What is that?” Nel pulled at her shirt collar and leaned closer to the mirror. The muted glow from the emergency light wasn’t enough for her to decipher if the spot on her neck was a shadow or something else.
“Please don’t be a tick.” She opened the under-sink cabinet and grabbed the flashlight. Shining it on her neck, she looked in the mirror. Whew, not a tick. Just a little love bite.
Chapter 11
Tristan knocked his fist against his forehead. Tonight, he would’ve broken one of his own rules. Nel’s delicious scent and the pillowy softness of her body had weakened his resolve, enticing him to cuddle with her and luxuriate in the glow of her satisfaction. Except, the broken condom had sent her scurrying to the bathroom in full panic mode.
Of course, she didn’t know there was no reason for concern. He couldn’t get her pregnant unless he claimed her, and he would never allow that to happen.
And he was disease free, so Nel was perfectly protected. Still, he should’ve been more careful.
He debated going after her, but that might make the situation worse. She’d come out, eventually, and they could talk.
Grabbing the thick white bath towel off the floor, he stood and wrapped the towel around his hips. Wolfan vision allowed him to navigate through the dark to the kitchen without difficulty. He pulled back the curtain on the back-door window. The thunder and lightning had stopped, so the worst of the storm had passed, but the rain still pounded and the power remained off. Leaving Nel alone in bad weather didn’t sit well with him, but he had a rule. Never spend the night after bedding a woman, to avoid attachments and messy entanglements.
His stomach growled.
Food. He always thought better on a full stomach.
He opened the refrigerator and scanned the contents. Slim pickings. Rabbit food, mostly, but he could whip up a couple of omelets. He grabbed the eggs, onion, green pepper, tomato, mushrooms and cheese, and placed them on the counter. He searched the cabinets for a pan.
“Tristan?” A beam of light flashed in the living room.
“Here.” He found a knife and began dicing the onion.
Penelope padded barefoot into the kitchen, shining the light on him. “What are you doing?”
“Making a snack.” Tristan started chopping the green pepper. “Hungry?”
“I am.” Though she sounded uncertain.
Unless sick or dying, Wahyas never hesitated when offered food.
“Should you be chopping like that in the dark?”
“I have good night vision.” Excellent, actually. Wahyas could see nearly as well in the dark as they did in the light.
He scraped aside the pepper and went to work on the tomato. “The flashlight helps.” Not really, but Penelope seemed to find comfort in holding the light.
“I thought you didn’t like vegetables.” She sat on one of the two stools tucked against the island.
“I don’t like lettuce. Tastes like grass.” He laid down the knife and turned on the gas stove. Dropped a pat of butter in the pan and set it on the burner. Next, he placed a medium-sized glass bowl in front of him and carefully broke six eggs into the dish. After a couple of pinches of salt and a quick shake of pepper, he added the diced vegetables and whisked thoroughly.
He poured half of the mixture into the hot pan and adjusted the flame.
When the egg mixture firmed enough, he sprinkled the sliced mushrooms and shredded cheese just shy of center and folded over the egg mixture. When done, he slid the omelet onto a plate and grabbed a fork. “Eat up while it’s warm.”
He turned back to the stove to make his.
Nel’s footsteps trailed behind him and stopped at the refrigerator. “Want some orange juice?”
“Sounds good.”
Tristan was acutely and intimately aware of every move she made. Almost as if his body had become hypersensitive to her presence. He sensed her increasing tension as she sat the half-filled glasses on the island bar.
He prepared his omelet exactly the way he’d made hers. Carrying his plate, he sat on the stool next to her.
Leaning toward her, he dropped his voice. “You’re not pregnant.”
“What?” she said quickly.
“It’s not possible for me to get you, or anyone else, pregnant.” Male Wahyas were sterile until they’d claimed a mate. “And I’m perfectly healthy—no diseases to worry about.”
“I wasn’t worried.” The understated relief in her voice said otherwise.
“I should leave when we finish eating.” Tristan barely tasted the forkful of eggs he swallowed.
“Are you kidding?” Nel looked up from her plate, eyes round. “It’s raining a river outside. It’s safer if you stay here.”
Tristan wasn’t so sure. Sex hadn’t quelled the full-moon effects. Something about Penelope intrigued him, clouded his judgment, undermined his resistance.
“What made you afraid of storms?” Maybe not the best conversation to go with, but he couldn’t think of anything else to say and he needed to keep his mind off the warmth of her skin, the softness of her body, the rhythm of their joining, the enticing combination of her scent mixed with his.
Penelope swallowed a sip of orange juice. “I was born in South Florida. The rain isn’t what most of the country experiences. It can fall in sheets from a perfectly blue sky. The wind can whip up with tornadic force and disappear within minutes. Outer bands from a hurricane can bombard us for hours or days before the storm comes ashore. I was always afraid of storms. My dad said there was nothing to fear, but...he was wrong.”
Nel’s gaze fell to her plate. The painful emotion flickering across her face struck a deep chord. Tristan’s instinct urged him to soothe her distress. Before he figured out what he needed to do, she shook her head and blanked her expression.
“We went to bed after listening to the weather report,” she said, her voice distant and detached. “A hurricane was nearing the East Coast, but not expected to turn inland. A tropical storm behind it was expected to fizzle out.”
Her breaths became choppy and she seemed to see straight through Tristan, as if looking directly into the past. “During the night, the tropical storm got caught up in the hurricane’s outer bands. The sheer size and massive force of the combined systems created a megastorm. It changed directions. Before sunrise, it made landfall in the coastal town where I lived.
“Evacuation orders were given but by the time most heard the news, it was too late. My dad tried to get us to safety. We were on a back road because the highway was jammed. I remember the high-pitched howl of the wind. And the windshield wipers were moving so fast, all I could see was a blur and still they weren’t fast enough to clear away the water. I heard a loud crack above us, like the sky broke open. Then glass flew everywhere and the roof caved in from the weight of the tree that fell on the car. My parents died.” Her voice broke. “I was eleven years old.”
Tristan put down his fork to clasp her hand, curled into a fist on the counter.
“It was a freak accident,” she said, still in a trancelike state. “If we had stayed home, we would’ve all died anyway. Our house and most of the homes in our town were destroyed. Hundreds of people died—friends, neighbors, teachers. The doctors said I was lucky.”
She rubbed the dark pink scar that curved along her forearm. “I don’t believe in luck.”
“You’re a survivor,” he said, completely in awe. Nel had emerged from her tragedy with a kind, sweet disposition and an innocence he found utterly captivating. Not many people had the courage or strength to keep life from callousing the heart.
He hadn’t.
* * *
“If you don’t stop looking at me like that—” Eyes still closed, Tristan lay curled on his side, his muscled arm hugging Penelope’s pillow. The sheet they’d shared draped his bare hip. The towel he’d worn, tossed aside sometime during the night.
Oh, lord, he was temptation incarnate.
Smiling, Nel laid his folded clothes, still warm from the dryer, on the couch.
After their late-night omelets, they’d returned to the living room and settled into a cozy, snuggly position on the couch while Tristan read her a thriller from the digital library on her e-reader. Somewhere around chapter four, Nel had fallen asleep. She had no idea how long Tristan had remained awake, but he’d slept right through her phone alarm that went off at 6:00 a.m. The lights were on and the rain had stopped when she eased out of his arms to get ready for work.
“How do you know I’m looking at you?”
“I can feel it.” A devastating smile curved his mouth framed by dark gold whiskers. “It’s as if your hands are stroking my skin.”
Slowly, his eyelids lifted. Longing and much more heated his dark chocolate eyes. She wanted to bask in the warmth, submerge in the rich decadence.
“You’re dressed?” He rolled to his back and stretched. The sheet pulled tight across his morning erection. “What time is it?”
“Seven fifteen.” Usually she was at the resort around six forty-five to eat breakfast in the restaurant. This morning, waiting for Tristan to wake up, she’d opted for a piece of toast with peanut butter and a cup of coffee in the cabin.
“Shit!” Tristan bounded to his feet and the sheet slipped to the floor so fast Penelope didn’t have time to look away.
Then she couldn’t. It was like her body disengaged from her brain. She heard a distant voice commanding her to look away, but she couldn’t. Absolutely could not turn her head or avert her eyes from the most perfectly sculpted man she’d ever seen.
He didn’t seem to notice.
“My clothes!” The urgency in his voice faded as he turned toward the couch. He snatched his pants off the cushion. “Thanks.” Balancing perfectly, he shoved one long, muscular leg and then the other into the pants’ legs. His T-shirt went on backward and he had to pull it off and put it back on. He grabbed his cell phone and keys off the end table. “Ready?”
Charmed by the Wolf Page 8
